


What Does the Reflection Show?

by SavetheSpaceWhales (awishman)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Padmé Amidala Lives, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 18:11:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17965550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awishman/pseuds/SavetheSpaceWhales
Summary: What could have been, if Ben had his grandma in his life? My self-indulgent head-canons.





	What Does the Reflection Show?

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first piece of fiction I've ever shared here--please, be kind. Thanks to theselittlethings for helping me making this readable and treating my comma addiction. Thanks to @reginalynette and fulmeryinhevyn for editing and encouragement.

Padmé hears him before she sees him. Laying still, she continues to breathe steadily as the sound of footsteps thunders closer. Is there anything louder than a small child trying to be quiet? 

The mattress dips lightly, and chubby arms wreathe her neck. “May-May! I’m awake!” 

Padmé smiles, keeping her eyes closed. She lets out a ferocious snore and at Ben’s gasp, she reaches her arms out to tickle him. He laughs and wriggles, kicking her in the ribs. 

“Ben-Ben! I’m awake too!” she responds, opening her eyes and seeing the face of her grandson. Wild dark hair forms a crown to his beloved face, eyes crinkled and mouth opened in a delighted smile. She kisses his nose and relishes the feeling of the wet kiss he returns on her cheek. 

She sits up and says, “How about breakfast, Ben-Ben?” and he answers by sliding off the bed and running towards the kitchen. 

_________________ 

After breakfast, Padmé has something special planned. Ben had loved looking at old holos of her during his last visit. His eyes had focused on her elaborate gowns—not recognizing his grandmother in them at first. When she said it was her when she was young, Ben had been even more enchanted. “So pwetty, May-May.” 

Today she takes his hand and tells him it’s his day to be so pretty. Ben looks up at her unsure, but walks with her to her bedroom. Padmé presses the door panel that opens the walk-in closet (more of a room really) and watches Ben’s eyes widen as he takes in the gowns, accessories, hair pieces, shoes, and more. His face, which can look so serious at times, slowly breaks into a grin. He looks at her and she nods, giving permission (this is what grandparents are for, right?). 

Ben touches hundreds of garments and tries on dozens. They are all comically too big on him, but he is transfixed by his reflection, preening and posing in front of the mirror. He wears a white gown from a parade held for a victory won decades ago. She’s surprised his head and neck can support the black-feathered headpiece. Their eyes meet in the mirror and Ben tries to twirl, tripping on the excess fabric pooled at his feet. Padmé helps him up, setting the headpiece aside and lifting the gown over his head and upraised arms, revealing pudgy feet wedged into too-big high-heeled shoes. 

Amidst the chorus of “more, May-May, more!” her eyes scan the closet. 

"How about red, Ben-Ben?” 

She pulls down her throne room gown at his nod of agreement, pointing out the specially-lighted globes. She helps him put on the dress, standing behind him, as they examine the result in the mirror. Her hand reaches down and strokes his hair. She feels like her heart might burst for love of this child, for love of the grandfather that should be there with them at this moment. Clearing her throat, she moves to another area, where her makeup is stored. 

“Ben-Ben, more pretties?” she asks, opening a tube of red lipstick to show him. His pouty lips are puckered and ready, soon staining her cheek with a sloppy kiss. She touches the lip print, smiling softly in the mirror. She won’t wipe it off just yet. 

 

_____________________________________

 

Padmé hears them before she sees them. She pauses out of sight and unabashedly listens.

”Master Ben!” frets C-3PO, ”Master Ben! Princess Leia has instructed me to educate you in these matters! In addition to being fluent in over 6 million forms of communication, I am programmed for etiquette and protocol.” 

A sigh. “I know Threepio.” Silence. Sounds of a body shifting. “It’s just so --” 

Padmé chooses that moment to emerge and rescue her grandson from yet another recitation of Threepio’s skill set. Smiling, she sees Ben’s eyes light up and dismisses Threepio quickly. 

As the droid shuffles out of the dining area, Ben stands, and unasked, wraps his arms around Padmé’s shoulders in a hug. When did he get so tall? she wonders, hugging him back, hand reaching out to touch his face as he pulls away. 

“May-May,” he says quietly, by way of greeting. “I didn’t know you were coming. Thanks for rescuing me.” 

Padmé looks rueful, remembering the etiquette lessons she took in the Legislative Youth Program once upon a time. “Had enough etiquette and protocol for one day?” she asks. 

“Enough. Forever,” Ben replies. “I know Mom means well, but I don’t want or care about this kind of stuff. And it’s not like Dad...” His voice trails off. 

“It’s not as if your father has impeccable manners” she manages to say fondly, but with laughter all the same. 

Ben’s face falls at that and Padmé can sense she inadvertently poked at a wound. She asks Ben for some tea, which he prepares for her. They sit across the table from each other. Ben’s chin is propped in his hands, looking away from her. Padmé remains silent, watching him. Something is troubling him, she thinks. 

Ben sighs and his head stays down. “I heard them,” he mutters. “I heard them, fighting, when they thought I couldn’t hear them.” 

Padmé bites her lip. She doesn’t need to ask who was fighting. And she is worried she doesn’t need to ask what they were fighting about. She reaches out, and places her hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze. 

Ben’s head is still down, but she can see some tear tracks on his face. He sniffles. “They are scared of me, of - of what I have inside me. Of how I act sometimes.” 

“And you, are you scared?” she asks. 

A gasp. A nod. 

Padmé gets up from her seat, tea forgotten. She stands behind Ben and bends down to wrap her arms around him. “It’s ok to be scared. We all have times we are afraid. You’re not alone.” 

She hopes to soothe, to comfort, to reassure. She thinks of the grandfather that could provide so much wisdom and caution in a time such as this. Tears well in her own eyes. 

Ben’s hand reaches up to cover her own. “Neither are you, May-May.” His whispered words cause her own tears to fall. She closes her eyes, and summoning the limitless love she has for this boy. She steps away and sits back down. 

“Can we talk about your grandfather?” she asks, fingering the japor snippet that hangs around her neck. Ben rubs his eyes with his fists, and nods. 

 

_____________________________________________________

 

Padmé can sense something is different as soon as he sits down. Not just his appearance, which has changed. He is even taller. Broader. A dark stubble shadows his chin. His greeting is warm, remarkably so for a teenage boy saying hello to his grandmother. There is something more solemn in his manner, and he has always been a serious boy. 

Padmé decides that silence, a companionable one, is best suited to their moods. She isn’t in a rush to talk, and she doesn’t need it. Just being able to spend time with Ben is enough for her. 

Ben shifts in his seat, and pulls his hair over his ears. Aha. So there was something on his mind, this is a sure tell. He sighs. 

“I’m not going to Luke’s.” he finally says. He looks up, gauging her reaction. 

Padmé tries to keep her face schooled. After years of leadership, it’s second nature. But she has a private life now -- a family, and despite her instincts, she doesn’t need to hide her feelings from him. She breaks into a grin. “I’m so glad. I’m glad you’ve decided what is best for you.” 

Ben’s face sports a matching smile, and he looks at her fondly. “He isn’t happy. Neither is Mom. But Dad...” He halts for a moment. “Dad’s ok with it. He even told me so.” A blush starts creeping up his neck. Perhaps embarrassment at disclosing just how much his father’s approval means to him? 

Anakin would be so proud of you too, she thinks, leaning forward to embrace him. He hugs her back, and when she pulls away, his face is even redder. 

“I--I, I made a friend. At a party. He kissed me.” 

The words rush out of Ben, and she wonders how long he has been keeping them inside. 

She settles back in her seat. “Tell me all about it. I want to hear everything.” 

Ben reclines. “His name is Poe.” he says, beginning the story with a smile playing about his lips. 

_______________________________________________________________________________

 

Ben follows in the procession led by May-May's casket. Rey, walking next to him, grabs his hand, while his other fingers the japor snippet in his pocket. The necklace that is not around his grandmother’s neck for the first time he can remember. He has cried a lot today, and he’s sure he isn’t done, but as he rubs the necklace, he knows he will give it to Rey tonight. And he knows she will accept it, and understand what it signifies. 

His breath shudders and feels more tears spring from his eyes. What am I going to do without you May-May? He grasps Rey’s hand tighter and she runs her thumb along his wrist, silent and reassuring. 

The procession continues, and he feels blank inside. He can’t remember the particulars of the memorial, he couldn’t recall them later. His mind recalls times with May-May, trying on her clothes (Does he remember, or has he just had the story told to him so many times he thinks he remembers?) How she always listened, and never judged; how she was the only person who could talk to him about his grandfather openly, helped him face the darkness inside his family — inside himself. She was everything. 

_____________________________________ 

Later that night, Ben sits outside his parents’ home. Rey has given him some space, knows he needs it. He is pouring a drink, and he feels it before he sees it -- a presence that is both foreign and familiar. Goosebumps erupt on his skin. 

A ghostly form that he recognizes instantly appears before him, sitting next to him. Ben can’t form words at the sight of his grandfather. He stares dumbly, half wondering if this is real or if his mind is playing tricks on him. 

Anakin emits a blue light. The two men look at each other. 

“Tell me about your grandmother,” Anakin says. 

And Ben starts to talk.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can find me on Twitter @AmyWishman


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